


I Want to Hurt, or I Don't Want to Feel at All

by KlingyKlaus



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves is Dead, Ben dies and it is sad, Could be underage in certain countries, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, High Sex, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus has sex at 16, M/M, Mentioned Ben Hargreeves, Not Beta Read, Rough Sex, We Die Like Men, Y'all this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingyKlaus/pseuds/KlingyKlaus
Summary: "Later, in the mausoleum, Klaus lay on his side in a ball, wearing the same inside out and backwards clothes he had left Diego’s room in. The pain in his ass and thighs from Reginald’s abuse a counterpoint to the pain in his head from the ghosts’ screaming. Unseeing, he looked into the impenetrable dark and listened to the pain of the spirits around him. It was for Diego. Everything was for Diego."





	I Want to Hurt, or I Don't Want to Feel at All

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the song _Okay_ by Chase Atlantic, and encouraged by the Kliego Discord so like... blame them I guess.

“God Klaus,” Diego panted, forehead pressed to the base of Klaus’ neck.

“Di, please!” the clairvoyant boy pleaded, pushing thin hips back into the rough thrust of Diego’s fingers.

It was the first time for both of them, but Klaus had been talking to the queens at a local club every time he snuck out, and they had given him a lot of advice. He had been so eager, coming to Diego with his information, like a dog bringing back the fetch stick.

He was so cute and Diego _wanted_. Wanted the spindly little twink that was his brother. Felt a deep and possessive need to claim Klaus, _dominate_ him, and it scared the fuck out of him. At sixteen, and still suffering from a horribly embarrassing stutter, he wanted to make Klaus cry. From pleasure and from pain. Diego wanted to make Klaus _obey_ _him,_ like he had never obeyed anyone before.

Despite his mixed feelings about the revelation, he couldn’t say no to Klaus. So when he came to Diego in the dead of night with lube and a condom, begging for Diego to be his first, there was no real question as to what his answer would be. It was yes. It would always be yes for Klaus.

Which is why Diego had three fingers inside his brother when Allison threw the door open, already asking whatever it was she had wanted to now. Realizing what she had walked in on, Allison shrieked and immediately turned, slamming Diego’s door as she made her retreat.

Panicking, Diego yanked his fingers out, causing Klaus to hiss from the sudden pain. More worried about what Allison might tell Luther, who would tell dad, Diego didn’t even stop to see if Klaus was okay.

He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor, talking as he shimmied them up his legs. “You shou-should prob-pr-pr-probably not be- be here when I get b-back.” And then he was out the door to go after Allison.

Klaus stayed where he was with his knees tucked up underneath him and spread, ass in the air, for several minutes. He was attempting to process what had just happened, the abrupt shift in atmosphere and sudden drop from that floaty headspace really fucking him up.

Klaus dressed himself, in the loosest sense of the word. Diego’s shirt on inside out and sweatpants on backwards, one sock on his foot and the other lost to the depths of the bed’s underneath.

In a fugue state, he made his way back to his room, only to be met with the disappointed face of Reginald Hargreeves. He wasn’t even angry. It was as if Reginald had expected Klaus to do something wrong, was disappointed of course, but resigned. And the old man’s face showed it. His heavy brows were drawn down in a frown, and his mustache seemed to droop down towards his mouth, almost as if it were holding the weight of his unfulfilled expectations for his Number Four.

Giggling, Klaus knew distantly, was not the appropriate response to what was going on. But he was hysterical, his head felt heavy while simultaneously feeling like it could float away, and the creeping tendrils of sadness where beginning to wrap around the balloon in his skull to squeeze until it popped. Until all he felt was the crushing weight of rejection from the _one_ person he had thought would always accept him.

“Number Four. This is no laughing matter.” Reginald stood, his height imposing as his presence filled the room and made Klaus feel as small as an ant in the Empire State building. “You convinced Number Two to sodomize you. A disgusting, deplorable act. It wasn’t enough for you to drag your own self down into filth, you had to take someone with you. Number Two is an obedient child, some day he will be a great hero. I refuse to allow you to corrupt him.”

Klaus allowed for Reginald to lay blame at his feet, stood still as their father moved closer with menacing intent. While Reginald talked, Klaus thought about Diego. He was amazing, vibrantly full of life, loyal to a fault, and so _caring_.  The opposite of Klaus, who had one foot in the afterlife. Where Diego had potential, Klaus had already proved himself to be a disappointment. So if their father wanted to believe this was all down to Klaus, that Diego hadn’t wanted it just as bad of his own volition, Klaus would let him. Hell, maybe he’d even convince himself of it.

Reginald moved to the bed, picking up the thin cane he must have placed there earlier.

Twenty lashes, Number Four. And then we’re going to see your friends.”

 

 

Later, in the mausoleum, Klaus lay on his side in a ball, wearing the same inside out and backwards clothes he had left Diego’s room in. The pain in his ass and thighs from Reginald’s abuse a counterpoint to the pain in his head from the ghosts’ screaming. Unseeing, he looked into the impenetrable dark and listened to the pain of the spirits around him. It was for Diego. Everything was for Diego.

 

*** 

 

Diego didn’t talk to Klaus after that. Not really. Diego told Klaus he was still his brother, and brothers were there for each other always. But when they were in a room alone together, Diego was clearly uncomfortable.

Klaus knew when he had overstayed his welcome, it always happened eventually. Diego, sweet Diego, was just too kind to tell him directly. Klaus could take a hint though, despite what his family believed.

That was fine, Klaus and Ben had always been close. Not as close as Diego and Klaus had been, but they were closer to each other than anyone else. So the Séance took to shadowing Ben, taking care of him and showering him in affection.

Except for when they had missions. Then, Ben would come home covered in the blood of others and lock himself in his room while everyone pretended not to hear his sobs through the door. Then, Klaus would be so high strung from the adrenaline dump and anxiety that he felt he was going to vibrate right out of his own skin and leave his muscle and sinew exposed to the air.

On those nights, Klaus slipped down the fire escape and went in search of some relief. It wasn’t like anyone cared enough to stop him. Or even notice in the first place. Not Reginald, who Klaus knew was aware of the habit. Not Ben, who couldn’t come to terms with the fact that having a monster inside of you didn’t make _you_ a monster. And especially not Diego, who had seen Klaus for the poison that he was.

Without Diego, the ghosts were louder. Without Diego, Klaus felt _everything,_ _all at once, all the time_. Without Diego, Klaus wanted to be numb. So out of the window and into the night he goes.

His favorite spot to hit was a seedy alley near Griddy’s Donuts. There’s a man there who sells to Klaus without too many questions asked. But Tom wasn’t there, so Klaus trekked deeper into the city, sweater sleeves pulled over his hands. The dirty puddle water was seeping into his canvas shoes and he was cold. The cocktail of hormones in his body, coupled with the cold, caused fine tremors to wrack his body. He didn’t care, he needed it. He needed to be able to sleep, for once. Because he hadn’t been, lately. Not without the help of his special pills.

The place that this particular dealer liked to inhabit was an old shipyard, littered with empty cargo containers and smelling strongly of piss.

“You come here pretty often, kid. If you’re not careful, you’ll OD,” Kane warned him, even as he passed him the little bag and took the cash.

Klaus nodded dismissively and stuffed the bag in his pocket before turning around to make his way back home. On his walk, he made sure to exercise the evasive maneuvers they were forced to study. Taking side streets and doubling back on himself. It served as a way to make sure no one was following him but it also doubled his walk time, allowing him to calm down and be away from that suffocating house.

Crawling back into the window, Klaus noticed that his little trip wire hadn’t been disturbed, which meant none of the people in the house had come to check on him. Not that he had expected it, but it still caused a dull ache in his heart.

Sad and full of buzzing energy, Klaus pops a tablet in his mouth and swallows it dry. He’s old hat at this now, throat working to accommodate the foreign object.

After hiding the little blue pills, Klaus changes into his sleep pants and a shirt he stole from Diego’s room. Klaus would steal a shirt from Diego occasionally, replacing it and taking another when it stopped smelling like him. It was comforting when he was high, depressing when he wasn’t.

Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, Klaus let the high overtake him. It was pleasant. His limbs felt heavy and his head felt light. He wasn’t sad anymore. Wasn’t high strung. He was relaxed, and he didn’t care about anything. Vaguely he knew that he had worries. That his life was fucked up and scary, but right now he couldn’t feel any of that panic. It just wouldn’t come, and he was grateful. He drifted slowly into sleep without the voices of the dead ringing in his ears, or their spectral fingers clawing at his consciousness.

 

 

Things went on much the same, with the occasional visit to the mausoleum, for several months. Then Ben died, and Klaus was lost.

Ben had been Klaus’ anchor to reality, keeping him from being lost in a world only he could see. Now Ben was a part of that other world, and Klaus couldn’t take it. The night after Ben’s funeral, Klaus slipped down the fire escape like he had many nights before. But this time, he had a different goal in mind.

In his grief, Klaus had forgotten that Diego was no longer someone Klaus could go to. He had attempted to seek comfort from the darker skinned boy, and was met with a stiff hug and pat on the back as consolation.

It _hurt_. It hurt like losing Ben hurt, but in a different place. Klaus didn’t want to hurt. But Klaus didn’t want to be numb. He wanted to see Ben, and he couldn’t see Ben if he was impaired. But pain, physical pain, would take his mind off of the hurt in his heart. Pain and pleasure. Because Klaus didn’t just want to not hurt. He wanted to feel _good_.

He wore a pair of high-waisted black shorts with red fishnets and his beat up black chucks. His shirt was a white mesh that showcased his fledgling muscles and his nipples.

While he couldn’t get in to a club, nothing was stopping him from waiting just down the street. He stood there for maybe an hour before a large man who reminded him of Luther approached.

“Hey sweetheart. What’re you doing out here all by yourself?”

Klaus made sure to widen his eyes, looking up at the man through his eyelashes, chin tilted slightly down and to the side. It used to drive Diego wild, and he hoped it would work on this man. “I’m just really lonely.”

Evidently, it did work. The man stepped into his space, smelling strongly of beer and cigarette smoke.

Using one meaty hand, the man pulled Klaus’ head up until he was looking the man in the eyes. “Well it’s a good thing I found you, baby. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

Which is how Klaus ended up in an alley, being entered nearly dry, with his face pressed into the rough brick and his shorts down around one ankle. The man hadn’t even bothered to undress Klaus further than that, opting to rip a hole in his fishnets and move his panties to the side in order to get at his hole.

Klaus briefly thinks that maybe a first time is not meant to be with a strange older man in an alley, but then his head is being yanked back by his hair and a hand is around his throat and he _moans_. Long, loud, and slutty.

“Sound like a goddamn porn star baby,” the man grunted into Klaus’ neck, where he was busy leaving painful bruises and biting hard enough to break the skin.

“It’s because I’m a whore. A whore, all for you, Daddy." 

It was a crapshoot, but Klaus figured he’d get what he wanted either way. This man would do one of two things: beat the shit out of him, or play along. Klaus was definitely fine with either. As long as he _felt_ it. As long as it kept him from feeling the pain in his heart.

Random guy groaned and gave a particularly rough thrust, causing Klaus’ face to slam into the wall as the hand in his hair was no longer there.

His nose was bloody, he had welts on his neck from blunt teeth, and he was certain the man had torn something upon breaching him, but it was wonderful. The euphoric feeling of being absolutely destroyed by something other than his own brain. The thought that he would have proof that someone cared enough to notice him. To _hurt_ him. Reginald didn’t even cane him anymore. Had given up. His siblings didn’t spar or banter with him. They just left.

But this man was brutalizing him and he craved it. Craved the hurt and the pain he knew he deserved. Ben may have had a monster inside of him, but _Klaus himself_ was a monster.

His head was wrenched hard to the side; mouth being plundered as the man behind him slammed into his prostate repeatedly. A particularly hard thrust jolted Klaus in the kiss, causing the man to bite nearly all the way through his lip, and that was it for Klaus. He was coming hard, untouched, and felt the moment the man emptied inside of him. He made sure to clench and unclench around the man, until he got a sharp smack to the back of the head and a muttered “Cheeky little bitch”, before the guy pulled out and zipped up, tossing Klaus a few bills before leaving the alleyway.

Klaus stood there a moment, legs spread and bent at the waist with his face pressed to the wall, and took stock of his injuries. The man had definitely torn something, so he would need to keep an eye on that and keep it clean. He had brick burn on the side of his face, a possibly broken nose, a split lip, and several bruises and bloody bites on his neck that would need cleaned.

Satisfied with his evaluation, Klaus stood slowly, righting his clothes as best he could and going to hail a cab. The man had given him enough for that, which was good because Klaus had not thought as far ahead in his plan as he probably should have. If this man had not paid him, he would have had to walk home.

In the cab, on the way home, Ben appeared to him. Covered in blood and looking miserable, eyes filled with something he’d never directed at Klaus before. Pity.

By the time he got home, he was crying and almost unable to crawl back in through his window. Once inside, he cleaned himself up and treated his wounds before crawling into bed and curling into a tight ball. Over his own crying, he could hear Ben across the room crying too. Eventually, he fell into sleep.

 

 

The next morning, Klaus bumped into Diego on the way to breakfast. His brother took stock of Klaus’ face, neck, and obvious limp before glaring at him in disgust and hurrying to the kitchen.

Looking to his right, Klaus saw Ben, still covered in blood and unbelievably forlorn.

 He didn’t want to see Ben anymore. He didn’t want to see Diego’s disappointed face. He didn’t want to see anything. He wanted to be _free_. And the only freedom he could attain, he found in pills and needles.

 

***

 

There were hands on his chest, pulling him backwards, hips grinding a hard cock into his ass, and a cute little Latina with a bruising grip holding onto his jaw as she kissed some sort of pill into his mouth.  Klaus swallowed it of course, because he wasn’t rude.

Coming to this rave, he thought absently, was probably one of his best decisions yet. The room was warm and packed with sweaty bodies moving to the techno beat. The neon paint was smearing with sweat and other bodily fluids, and he was receiving free drugs for being cute. He could tell it was going to be a good night.

He lost time to dancing with the two beautiful people that he was trapped between, only really beginning to take in his surroundings when he was suddenly yanked off balance and into a firm chest. Shrugging, he just went with it. As he danced with this new person, he catalogued the changes in his body. He was a lot warmer than usual, and he was extremely happy. Happy like he never was these days, not naturally. His energy felt endless and he had a persistent boner, along with a need for physical contact. The mystery pill must have been X.

Apparently while he was figuring this out, the person behind had stopped dancing and was getting increasingly louder as they tried to get his attention. He turned to tell the guy to lighten up, and his eyes widened when he was met with the face of Diego, the brother he hadn’t seen in years.

“C’mon Klaus, step out with me.” 

Then Klaus was being dragged off of the dance floor and up a flight of stairs into a room. It was cold up there, and Klaus really just wanted to touch the warm skin he could see peeking out from underneath Diego’s shirt. So he did. Shoved his hands right up under Diego’s shirt.

“Why are you here?” he asked distractedly, petting Diego’s firm abdominals. Diego was definitely more muscle-y than he was when they were teenagers living in the Hargreeves home.

“I was, uh, I was- would you stop?” Diego yanked Klaus’ hands out from under his shirt and held them in a painfully tight grip. Klaus moaned at the stimuli, and Diego  physically recoil. 

“Sorry, knife boy. But that just really revs my engine.” Klaus smiled almost menacingly and leered at Diego.

“You’re high,” his brother responded in a flat tone.

“High or not, I like a little pleasure thrown in with my pain.” This time Klaus’ smile was downright mean as he slunk closer to Diego, pressing him into a wall and then pressed them together. Chest to chest, with a leg between Diego’s thighs. “But you already knew that,” Klaus nipped the hinge of Diego’s jaw. “Big Brother.” And then he was out of arms reach, avoiding anything short of a knife that Diego might try to nail him with. 

This was a bad idea, some part of Klaus’ brain told him. But he didn’t care. He wanted Diego to hit him, since he’d never get what he really wanted from his brother.

That was the last thought Klaus had before he was suddenly spun and slammed into a wall, his back colliding with the concrete.

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, baby boy, I’m going to have to gag you.”

And maybe Klaus was higher than he thought, because it seemed like Diego was about to fuck him. Diego, My Pants are so Tight they Squeezed Out My Personality, Hargreeves was about to fuck him in an extra room at a rave.

“Yeah? Gonna punish me big brother?” Klaus taunted, tilting his head back and baring his throat in a submissive gesture, despite his challenging words.

“You know I will baby. Fill that pretty mouth up so I don’t have to hear your sass.”

And wow, where did Diego learn to dirty talk? If Klaus weren’t so out of his skull, he might even be jealous. Instead, he was just turned on.

Diego claimed his mouth, pushing his tongue in and a thigh between Klaus’ legs. As his brother plundered his mouth, Klaus tried to grind down on that muscled thigh, only to be met with a bruising grip on his hips that kept him immobile. He tossed his head back against the wall and whined high in his throat, earning a dark chuckle from Diego.

He pulled back, smiling, and slapped Klaus hard before leaning in to speak in his ear. “Quiet, or I won’t let you cum.”

Klaus couldn’t think of a more heinous thing, began shaking his head hard and crying. “No! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be so good.”

As Klaus kept babbling, drug addled mind keeping him from just shutting up in his panicked state, Diego brought a hand up to his throat, cutting off his air supply until no sound escaped and Klaus was getting tiny sips of air that were barely enough.

“I know you will be baby. You’re always so good for your big brother,” Diego soothed, voice soft and low as he stroked Klaus’ curls before pulling them hard.

Underneath his hand, he could feel the smaller man’s throat work around a soundless moan. It was hot, probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen. But he’d always been biased when it came to Klaus.

Releasing him, Diego stepped back and crossed his arms. “Strip,” he commanded simply, and watched as Klaus scrambled to discard his clothing as quickly as possible.

Klaus looked at him through his thick lashes, green eyes almost glowing in the dim lighting, waiting for direction.

“Come here sweetheart. Wrap your legs around my waist.”

As soon as he was finished talking, Klaus was on him with arms around his neck and allowing Diego to grasp his thighs to situate him properly with his legs around Diego’s waist.

“Such a good boy, following my directions so well,” He cooed into Klaus’ neck, where he sucked a dark hickey.

The part of his brain that would always see Klaus as _his_ thrilled at the act of leaving his mark on the pale man clinging to him. This possessive feeling is what drove him to press Klaus into the wall, bent in half, with one pale leg over his shoulder and one over the bend of his elbow.

Out of his pocket, Diego drew a packet of lube and tore it open, coating his fingers before inserting one in Klaus’ ass without warning. His brother clenched hard around the intrusion before relaxing, allowing Diego to stretch him quickly and efficiently, the slight burn persistent all the way through. Diego hadn’t loosened Klaus up to the point where the stretch would be painless, just enough that nothing would tear. He knew that was exactly how Klaus wanted it. Rough enough to feel it in the morning. And Diego wanted to give it to him like that. Wanted Klaus to feel Diego every time he shifted.

“Di! Big Brother! Please, I- I can’t.” and Klaus was crying, again, salty tears running freely down his face. Diego licked them from his face, reveling in the salty taste.

“Shh shh, baby. I know exactly what you need.”

Diego pulled out his fingers, kissing away Klaus’ little whine of protest, and opened his pants, pulling out his dick to smear the extra lube on it.

“Gonna fill you up Baby Brother. You’ll feel me for days,” Diego growled directly into his ear before biting down hard enough that he tasted copper and entering Klaus in one smooth thrust.

Klaus’ back bowed, a broken cry leaving his kiss bitten mouth to fall like a prayer at Diego’s feet.

“Hit me,” Klaus gasped out.

“Is that how we ask for what we want?” Diego chastised, hips moving in shallow, lazy little thrusts.

“Diego, please!” He was attempting to rock on Diego’s dick, but the wall and the position they were in prevented it, succeeding only in rubbing his back raw on the concrete.

“Please what, darling?” Diego teased, thrusts picking up a bit in pace but still just as shallow.

“Please hit me, Big Brother!”

The darker man hummed in satisfaction, smirking at Klaus. “All you had to do was ask.” Then his hand was connecting with Klaus’ face, leaving a dark red print across his cheek. Pretty like the blush Klaus used to steal from Allison.

Pressing Klaus hard into the wall, Diego began to thrust harder and faster. He could feel where they should have used more lube, the friction against his dick just the right side of painful. On the side of his face, Diego could feel Klaus’ warm breath from his babbling and hitching little moans.

“Fill me so good Big Brother. You’re so good. Filling me so good. Can feel you everywhere. Love you. Love you so much. Need you Di. Only ever needed you.”

Hearing that Klaus _needed_ him is what drove Diego over the edge, claiming his brother from the inside out as he bit down hard on Klaus’ neck.

“I love you, Diego,” Klaus whispered, eyes drooping.

Diego knew Klaus wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon, but he was still pretty out of it. And Diego really couldn’t afford to stay until Klaus was sober.

“Yeah. So you said,” Diego told Klaus as he slowly helped him to unbend, and set him on his own feet. When Klaus wobbled dangerously, Diego just picked him up and tucked him into the makeshift bed in the room.

He tucked himself back into his pants, then gathered up Klaus’ things and set them by the bed, before slipping out of the room unnoticed by his doped up brother. What he had done was a mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can always hit me up on my Tumblr, KlingyKlaus.  
> Comments and Kudos appreciated.


End file.
